Gone

Dust on your boots, the sky is endless, and time seems to stretch between chords and the motorway. Here, no one looks for meaning - they just keep driving until the wind gets tired of catching up. Every bar, every dawn, every loss is like a chapter from a book that no one planned to write, but still reads to the end.

This music has a taste of whisky and a touch of philosophy: about how easy it is to get lost when you're always on the road, and how strangely calm it is when you realise that this is home. A little tiredness, a little romance, and a bunch of stories told in a hoarse voice around the last campfire. Everything is gone, but everything is yours.